<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>unsaid by cowboylakay</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25151170">unsaid</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/cowboylakay/pseuds/cowboylakay'>cowboylakay</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, M/M, Pining, Pre-Relationship, Sickness, charles is sad and gay</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 03:28:19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,270</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25151170</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/cowboylakay/pseuds/cowboylakay</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Before everything permanently goes to shit, Arthur and Charles sit together for awhile.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Arthur Morgan/Charles Smith</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>53</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>unsaid</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A rattling cough from across camp rouses Charles from his sleep, blearily blinking his eyes open just as he sees Arthur curl up into himself before sitting up, forcing his mouth shut with his hand.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Charles, though his vision was still blurry, could see the way Arthur’s shoulders violently shook from the force of his coughing, the way he hits his chest to get his lungs to work properly. His eyes follow Arthur as he gets up from his cot, carefully looking around to see if anyone had woken up, before disappearing into the trees.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He knows he shouldn’t follow. Arthur would want to be alone, selfless as he was. He knows he shouldn’t be standing up, dusting his pants, careful in his movements to avoid waking others up, and following Arthur. He knows, yet he goes.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It isn’t hard to track him down. He isn’t far from camp, and despite his sickness, Arthur still retained some of his muscled weight, evident from the deep indentation of his footsteps against the leaf-covered ground. He finds Arthur seated and leant against a tree, breathing heavily and looking about as miserable as he most likely felt.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Mind if I join you?” Charles asks quietly, not enjoying the way Arthur flinches at the sound of his voice. Ever since they came back from Guarma, Arthur seems to be on edge all of the time, only alleviated when something goes right, which is a rare event for the entire camp nowadays.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Arthur relaxes slightly when he registers Charles’ voice, nodding as he scoots further to the side to allow some space for him against the tree. Charles sits down, ignoring the itch to reach for a cigarette in favour of Arthur’s lungs. They’re silent for awhile, watching the stars in the night sky twinkle almost mockingly at them.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Not here to smoke?” Arthur asks him, voice hoarse from the constant abuse of his sick lungs against his throat. Charles shakes his head, turning slightly to look at Arthur. “What you here for then, if you don’t mind my askin’?”</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">Charles smiles a little, fingers playing with the hem of his shirt. “I can’t just sit here with my-” </span><span class="s2"><em>Who are you to me, Arthur Morgan? How long would I be able to call you what I want before you’re gone?</em> </span> <span class="s1"> “-friend?”</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Arthur laughs derisively, as if he doesn’t believe him. He says nothing to that, instead looking back at the sky, as if he was trying to escape the choking, crushing air of Beaver Hollow. Charles feels the same, somedays feeling so tired of the energy in camp that he would contemplate what it’d take for him to just leave in the night. He could never, because his only real reason for staying would never, not even to his dying breath.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Charles reaches for Arthur’s hand, feeling the rough callouses of his palm and the dirt sticking to it. Some of the tension in Arthur’s form lessens as he adjusts so they were holding hands properly, both of them taking comfort in the easy affection. Their fingers twine around each other, Charles’ thumb rubbing against the back of Arthur’s hand.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I-“ Arthur began, before going quiet again. Charles kept his eyes on him, patient as a still lake as he waits for Arthur to gather his thoughts and words. “I’m worried, Charles.”</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“About what?” </span> <span class="s2"> <em>Tell me, so I can try to take away the worry.</em> </span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“About... about everythin’, I guess. Dutch, John and his family, everyone else in camp...” He trails off, reddened eyes darting across the ground almost frantically as he tries to explain. “Worried about you, even though I know if anyone could make it, you would. Just, everything.”</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s2"> <em>Without you? I doubt it.</em> </span> <span class="s1"> “I understand,” Charles tells him instead, tone softer as he watches Arthur. </span> <span class="s2"> <em>Tell him, you fool. Before it’s too late.</em> </span> <span class="s1"> “I’m worried, too.”</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Arthur looks at him then, a sad smile on his lips as he searches for something on Charles’ face. He laughs wetly then, turning away as he leans his head against the trunk of the tree. “You’ll be fine. You’re about the only person in camp-” he coughs through his words, “-that still has his shit together. You’ll make it out alright.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“That’s not what I meant,” Charles says then, his thumb stopping its ministrations. Arthur seems to take notice of that, briefly looking down at their joined hands before looking at Charles in question. “I’m worried about you.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Arthur looks away for a moment, the sad smile back on his lips. “You shouldn’t be,” He rasps, quiet despite their solitude. “We both know how this’ll end. You shouldn’t worry about me.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“But I want to.” <em>Let me worry for you. Let me care for you. Let me.</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Doesn’t mean you should,” Arthur says, coughing again. As soon as the hackles die down, Charles lifts their hands, kissing the back of Arthur’s hand before holding it on his lap. As if entranced, Arthur’s eyes follows the motions, surprised.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I know, Arthur,” Charles says back, lips still feeling the coldness of Arthur’s hand. He isn’t afraid to admit that the coldness scared him. “I want to. Let me worry about you.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I don’t deserve—”</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“People don’t always get what they deserve,” Charles interrupts</span><span class="s1">, firmer this time. “Doesn’t matter whether you deserve this or not. Let me treat you with kindness.” </span> <span class="s2"> <em>Let me love you before it’s too late,</em> </span> <span class="s1"> he doesn’t say.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Arthur is silent for a moment, holding his gaze. Then, he sighs quietly, leaning his head against Charles’ shoulder. The sky is slowly getting brighter, dawn steadily approaching as the two of them sat there together, heads leaning against each other and hands still twined.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What’ll you do, after?” Arthur asks then, almost a whisper as he breathes shakily. Charles glances at him for a second, difficult because of the angle.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I don’t know. I’ll continue helping the Natives, however I can,” He says, free hand toying with the end of his braid. “Aside from that, I don’t know. Maybe I’ll head north.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Canada?” Arthur asks, smiling slightly. “Heard it was nice there. Lotta grasslands and game, probably more than here. Seems like your kinda country.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You can come with me, see for yourself.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Arthur’s smile drops then, lips pursing as he casts his gaze downwards. “Charles, you know I—”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I know.” Because he does, knows so much that his heart hurts because of it. “I know, Arthur.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There’s silence again, only broken for a moment by the distant whining call of an elk. Arthur sighs, hand squeezing Charles’ for a second. “I wanted to live on a ranch, once this was over. Build a house, big enough for anyone that wanted to come over and stay in, tend to crops and keep cows.” He turns away to cough, before sidling back against the curve where Charles’ shoulder and jaw met. “I thought, I’ll build a house big enough for everyone. Enough space for anyone that could stand to keep livin’ with me, even after we’re free.” He scoffs to himself. “Seems stupid, I know.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s not,” Charles says, smiling fondly as he did. “I want the same. I want to finally settle down, stop looking behind my shoulder and running all the time. Root myself to one-” <em>man, one man, you, Arthur, you big fool, can’t you see that?</em> “-place. I’m tired of running.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Me too,” Arthur sighs, closing his eyes. “Me too.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The sun begins shining over the horizon then, bathing the sky in light as life around them started waking up. Another day, another step towards death, towards life, and towards salvation.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>sorry</p><p>i’m <a href="https://cowboylakay.tumblr.com/">lakay</a> on tumblr</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>